


Such a Revelation

by pjordha



Category: Desperately Seeking Susan (1985)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, F/F, F/M, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 04:50:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pjordha/pseuds/pjordha
Summary: Months afterDesperately Seeking Susanends, Susan is still wreaking havoc in Roberta's life.  Roberta finally gives in.  Dez and Leslie aren't surprised.





	Such a Revelation

Such a Revelation

By Pjordha

 

 

"I always _knew_ you were a lesbian!"

 

Weeks ago Roberta would have dropped her bags and clutched her hand over her heart at the shock of seeing her sister-in-law Leslie suddenly appear in her kitchen unannounced.  It barely registers a raised eyebrow these days.

 

Ever since "The Ordeal," as her soon-to-be-ex-husband calls it, Roberta has received quite a few surprise visitors: Gary (to beg her to come back), her folks (to beg her to stay married to Gary, ignoring both their infidelities), her country club lady friends (to threaten her to stay away from their husbands), and Leslie (to accuse her of everything from taking drugs to homosexuality). 

 

Roberta places the paper grocery bags on the kitchen counter, clears her throat, and gives her soon-to-be-former-sister-in-law a pointed look.

 

"What are you talking about?"

 

"You know good and well what I'm talking about!  I came over here because my brother— _your_ husband—has been crying on my shoulder for weeks, and when I come over here to try to talk sense into you, this is what I find!"  Leslie stomps over to the sliding glass door leading to the patio and flings it open and points to the topless woman sunning herself by the pool.

 

Roberta shrugs.  "What?  It's just Susan."

 

Leslie's eyes grow huge and she whispers, loudly, "Her _breasts_ are showing!"

 

Roberta's eyes narrow.  She can't see that far without her glasses.  "There's a wall around the backyard.  The neighbors can't see anything."

 

"That's not the point!  She's practically naked!  What are you two doing in this house together?  Has she driven you insane?  I mean really, Roberta.  Did she even _go_ to college?"

 

Roberta shakes her head as she puts away the groceries: ramen noodles and Diet Pepsi for Susan, radicchio and club soda for her.  Susan had showed up three nights ago and eaten her out of house and home like she hadn't touched food in a week.  After breaking up with Jim for the 80th time while he was on tour, and then hitchhiking back to the city, it's possible that Susan really hadn't eaten for that long.  Roberta hadn't asked too many questions, just let Susan in at 3 am, paid for the cab from the train station, and let Susan choose any of the four bedrooms to crash in.  Susan had chosen hers, and Roberta had slept in a guest room ever since.

 

"Why are you here, Leslie?  You know I'm not taking Gary back."

 

"Tell me the truth, woman to woman."  Leslie comes close and looks deep into Roberta's eyes like she is trying to divine her soul.  "Did this Susan woman seduce you?  These artistic city types are all the same, with their ripped clothes and bad dye jobs."  Leslie grabs Roberta by the arms.  "You can tell me.  Did she brainwash you and turn you off to sex with men?  It can happen—I saw it on _Donahue_."  Leslie suddenly squeals as Susan comes up behind her and reaches across the counter for a soda, pressing her wet breasts against Leslie's tennis whites in the process.  "Oh my God!"

 

"Oh, so touchy," Susan quips.  "Just like Gary."  Susan wiggles eyebrows at them both and walks away, dripping chlorinated water on the carpet on the way back to the master bedroom.  Leslie watches her go and then looks back at Roberta, shocked.

 

"I think she felt me up."

 

###

 

Dez has been great through the whole thing, giving Roberta space so she can "find her head."  Really he just hates New Jersey.

 

"I miss you," he grumbles into the phone in the crook of his neck as he juggles film reels.  "When are you coming into the city?"

 

"Soon.  I don't wanna leave Susan alone."  Roberta scoots into the corner of the kitchen, away from the noise Susan is making in the living room as she paints her nails.  Whatever Susan does is loud.  "I think she and Jim might really be through this time."

 

"Yeah, right.  I got a static-filled message from him two days ago crying and singing me country songs he wrote, all called 'Susan.'  She'll be fine."

 

"Be nice.  She has feelings, too, you know."  Roberta peeks over at Susan going through her china cupboard.  "I really think she just needs a friend right now, and I'm all she's got."

 

Susan bites into an antique silver fork and nods, impressed.  "Hey, let's go out tonight," she says to Roberta, the house, no one in particular.  "I gotta get laid."

 

"Yeah," Roberta sighs, "she's really broken up."

 

###

 

Roberta never liked driving late at night, or in the rain, or when she was irritated.  Now, at 2 AM, the streets wet and rain drizzling, Roberta has to keep changing the air conditioning and heat to keep the windows from fogging.  Not from the humidity, but from Susan with her tongue down the throat of the random guy she'd picked up at the club.  It was bad enough she convinced Roberta to drive into the city without telling Dez, spur of the moment.  Then she danced and flirted for what seemed like hours, ignoring Roberta's discomfort.  Once Roberta was loosening up and smiling and getting into it, Susan suddenly grabbed her with one hand and the guy she was grinding up on with the other and pulled them back to the car.  Now Roberta is trying to drive, keep the windows clear, keep her mascara from running into her eye, and make sure Susan isn't actually having sex with this guy in the backseat of her Mustang.

 

"Uh…Susan?  Are you sure you wanna bring him with us?"  Susan only giggles as she devours the guy's tongue and climbs into his lap.  "I mean, if you want, I can drop him off…if you changed your mind."  Roberta doesn't hear anything and just keeps driving.  She checks them in the rear view mirror.  The guy's hand is up Susan's top, pulling the underwire bra down to expose Susan's left breast.  Roberta gasps.  She's seen Susan topless, several times this week in fact, but never in a sexual way, in the dark, in the rain, with her nipple huge and swollen.  The car swerves a little before she manages to look away, but not before catching Susan catching her eye in the mirror.  Roberta clears her throat and Susan licks her lips.

 

Susan makes a lot of noise when she's having sex, Roberta realizes.  She doesn't remember that bed squeaking so much when she was underneath Gary.  She wonders what Susan looks like, what faces she's making, what she's saying.  The words she _can_ hear through the walls are garbled for the most part, but Roberta can clearly make out the F-word several times from down the hall.  Jim…or Tim once or twice.  And if she listens hard, it almost sounds like Susan says, "girl" a few times.

 

Roberta jumps up and heads to the kitchen for some leftover cake.

 

###

 

The next morning it seems quiet.  Roberta wakes up after not sleeping well, goes to the bathroom and then stumbles without thinking to her own bedroom.  There's a delayed reaction when she opens the door and sees Susan in the bed wearing nothing but Roberta's pink fuzzy sleep mask and matching peignoir, with her own high heels.  The bed sheets are askew but covering Susan below the waist, but what Roberta can't see she can hear, clearly hear the whirr of her vibrator that she thought she'd hidden so well.  Roberta freezes, her eyes glued to the movement, the vertical movement that can only be Susan's hand lazily drawing the buzzing plastic device up and down between her labia like she was bored and only half way committed to getting off.  The guy from last night is asleep on the bed on his back, naked and with enormous morning wood.

 

"Hey."  Susan lifts Roberta's night mask from her face to stare one bleary blue eye at her hostess.  Roberta looks away from Susan's naked breasts and the one leg barely brushing the floor.  "I feel like waffles for breakfast.  My treat."

 

" _Your_ treat?"  Roberta dares a glance.  Susan's eyes are closed again, the mask askew on her face as her body starts to move in small waves against Roberta's vibrator, the one Roberta bought in a crazy sex shop on one of the many trips into the city in search of adventure, of romance, of strangers in Battery Park.

 

"Yeah," Susan hisses, "this guy must have enough for breakfast on him.  Just gimme a few minutes."  Susan tilts her head down to push the mask aside and smiles open mouthed at Roberta.  She spreads her legs and the sheets fall away just in time for Roberta to catch a glimpse as Susan presses the vibe all the way inside.  "Oh, shit, girl.  Fuck the waffles, let's go shopping!"

 

Roberta turns slowly and trudges petulantly back to the guestroom and slams the door.

 

###

 

"I don't think you want to do this."

 

Roberta stops unbuckling Dez's jeans.  "W-what do you mean?  Of course I do.  I drove all the way into the city to see you."

 

Dez pushes Roberta down on his couch, the one she bought for him after his entire apartment got trashed.  "You're obviously preoccupied with something, and you just want to use me as a distraction.  Normally I wouldn't mind a bit, but I have to be at work in like—" He looks at his watch.  "Fifteen minutes ago, so do you wanna just tell me what's up?"

 

"No, can't you just…you know…be late?"  She flips her hair at him, not in the shy way she always did, but in the obvious way that Susan always uses on men…and on her.  "I just need some affection, is that so wrong?"

 

Dez's smile at her is half lust, half pity.  "Sure, if it was me you were thinking about."

 

Roberta blushes and looks away, wanting a cigarette now that her house reeks of Susan's smoke.  "Who else would I be thinking about?"

 

Dez pats her knee and pulls her to her feet.  "Go home, honey, and come back when you've got Susan out of your system."

 

"You mean out of my _house_."  Roberta repeats it several times in her head.  "Right?"

 

Dez holds his front door open for her.  "Yeah."

 

When Roberta gets home Susan has moved into another guest room—the one for the baby Roberta and Gary will never have—and has music blaring and the door shut.  Roberta looks at the master bed, haphazardly made up but at least with clean sheets.  She goes back to her "new" room and closes the door.

 

###

 

On the eighth day of Susan, Roberta finally decides to say something.

 

"Um, Susan?"

 

Susan puts her dinner plate in the sink—a first.  "Can it wait?"

 

Roberta opens the dishwasher, an invitation she knows Susan won't accept.  "Why?"

 

"Because I'm leaving in the morning.  Come help me pack."

 

"Packing" involves going through closets in all the guest rooms and making piles of clothes, some Susan's, some Roberta's.  Roberta sits on her bed and folds and refolds the same top as Susan holds up garment after garment to decide what to take.

 

"Where are you going this time?"

 

Susan takes a long time to answer, humming to a song in her head as she fills Roberta's designer luggage.  "Not sure yet.  Maybe L.A. to stay with some friends.  The scene is really happening out there."

 

"You're not going to see Jim?"

 

Susan sneers.  "If he's lucky."

 

Roberta drops the top she's been folding to the floor.  "I thought you were through with him this time.  Isn't that what you've been saying since you got here?"

 

"Huh.  What bee flew in your bonnet?" Susan chuckles as she pulls out from the back of the closet a gorgeous green dress that Roberta wore to a party when Gary's business made its first million.  "Now _this_ is what I'm talking about!"  Susan starts undressing before Roberta can even fathom that she is about to lose the hottest dress she's ever owned.

 

"Gary gave me that dress."

 

"Give the man points for taste."  Susan is down to her bra and panties and about to slip the dress over her head when Roberta pops up to not so gently take it away.  "What gives?"

 

"It's just…why can't I have some things for myself?  Why do you have to take over everything?"  Roberta hears her voice getting shriller but can't stop herself.  "You just come right in and take over my house and my life all over again, and then just as soon as you get here you leave, and you don't tell me where you're going and then I don't know what's happened to you and I worry and…now I know how Jim must feel."

 

Susan's eyes narrow.  "I don't see how, seeing as how I fuck Jim."

 

Roberta's cheeks go red but she manages to stare Susan down.  "Feels the same to me."

 

Susan's mouth falls open and her cheeks blush, Roberta thinks, and then she shrugs and goes to her other suitcase.  "Fine.  You want something for the dress.  How's this?"  She takes out the pyramid jacket, the vintage green gold thing that started it all.  She holds it up and gazes at it sentimentally.  "I know you want it.  We'll trade."

 

"No.  Besides, I don't think it really belonged to Jimi Hendrix."

 

"No shit."  Susan tosses it to Roberta and goes back for the dress.  "Let me try it on, at least."  She holds it up by the thin straps to survey how it will look on her before removing her bra to put it on.  Susan stares at Roberta as she inches the dress up over her curves.  "So, what do you think?"  She leans against the wall and adopts a seductive pose as her hands slide over the dress. "God, this feels amazing.  I could get anything I want wearin' this dress."

 

"I didn't say you could have it."

 

Susan smirks.  "Let's see if you look better in my jacket than I do in your dress."

 

"I really don't—" But she really is letting Susan tug at the bottom of her top.  Roberta frowns but lets it happen, lets Susan undress her down to her lace bra and panties, ones like Susan favors but new and expensive.  Susan turns her around and reaches around to unhook her front clasp bra, pulling it across Roberta's breasts slowly, her fingertips ghosting over Roberta's now hardened nipples.  Roberta opens her mouth when Susan pulls at her panties but they are on the floor before she can think of what to say.  Then the jacket comes and she instinctively puts her arms inside and lets the garment settle on her bare body.  She's worn it more times than Susan in the past months, but it still smells only like Susan.

 

"Turn around," Susan demands.  Roberta does as instructed, holding the front together tightly to cover her body.  Susan ignores her modesty, as usual, and forces Roberta's hands to her side and surveys Roberta from head to toe.  "Not bad."  She stands back and her eyes settle on Roberta's crotch.   "Knew you weren't a real blonde."

 

"More than you," Roberta says pseudo defiantly but squeezes her legs together anyway.

 

Susan smiles.  "Didn't know you were looking."

 

"I—I mean, you're always just…just… _naked_ and—"

 

"Alright, already!"  Susan blows her hair out of her eyes like some silent movie screen siren.  "If you don't want the jacket for the gown…what _do_ you want?"  Roberta looks everywhere except at Susan, who snickers as she creeps closer.  "I wonder what Roberta Glass wants that I can give her."  Roberta's eyes dart to Susan's cleavage busting out of the top of the gown before quickly darting back to the floor.  "Roberta, Roberta, Roberta," Susan teases as she leans close into Roberta's space, close enough so their lips are only centimeters apart.  "If you wanted to fuck me, why didn't you just say so?"

 

The blood rushes to Roberta's face and she suddenly thinks about what Dez said.  "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbles with closed eyes.  "I'm…not—"

 

"Sure, you're not."

 

"But—"  But Roberta can't answer with Susan's mouth covering hers.  She can barely stand, her legs feeling all rubbery as Susan presses her body closer, kisses her harder for a long time before pulling away to grin triumphantly at her.  When Roberta opens her eyes and her mouth to reply, Susan dives in again, this time using her tongue.  A groan-squeal erupts from Roberta's throat, which Susan seems to take as a sign to continue.  She sucks on Roberta's bottom lip, her eyes fixed on Roberta's as she slides the famous green not-Jimi-Hendrix's jacket from Roberta's shoulders.  "W-what are you doing?" Roberta whispers, once her lips are free to speak.

 

"What you won't, obviously."  Susan tosses the jacket to a chaise across the room.  Roberta watches it and keeps her eyes to the side, away from Susan as she tucks into herself.  Susan shakes her head at Roberta's useless attempt at modesty.  "Too late for that.  I know where you live now."

 

Roberta cocks her head and takes on faux bravado, shaking her curls—Susan is a whiz at hot curlers—out of her face before daring to meet Susan's gaze.  "You don't know everything about me."

 

"Oh yeah?"  Susan looks the Ft. Lee housewife up and down.  "I know that you were miserable before I came along.  I know you would do anything to escape from your prissy little suburban marriage.  And I know you're just dying for it right now."

 

Roberta swallows the huge lump in her throat and lowers her arms and stands straighter, her breath coming fast to quell the mixture of anger and fear she just knows Susan expects from her.

 

"Oh, yeah," Susan coos as she circles Roberta's left nipple with her forefinger, "you're sexy when you're angry."  Roberta shivers; it feels too good not to.   She leans into Susan's touch and gasps when Susan takes the bait and cups the entire breast, thumbing the nipple to a hard peak.  "I always wondered how Dez could have possibly confused the two of us.  We both have magnificent ti—"

 

"Shut up."  Roberta forces herself to stand firm even though Susan's now both hands massaging her magnificent breasts are causing her hips to move in tiny waves.  "Just…be…quiet.  For once.  And take off _my_ dress."

 

Susan smiles as one hand slips down Roberta's flat stomach.  "Make me shut up."

 

"Fine."  Roberta has Susan's wrists in a tight grip in seconds flat, thanks to advanced self-defense classes at the country club, working as a magician's assistant three nights a week, and years of fighting Gary off.  Susan makes a few squeaks of surprise as Roberta wrestles her against the wall, but she assumes the position, hands behind her back, legs spread, face to the side, like someone's who's been arrested enough to know the drill. 

 

"Ow!  What gives, girl?"

 

Roberta holds her there, just breathing on Susan's hair, staring at the dark roots as she catches her breath.  "I told you.  This is my dress.  My house.  My bedroom," she growls roughly, like the ladies in the porno VHS tapes Gary always tried to get her to watch with him, and that she'd secretly view alone when he was at work.  She presses herself to Susan's back and yanks at the dress straps, pulling them slowly down Susan's shoulders.  "Everything in this house belongs to me."  She thinks she can feel Susan shiver as she peels the dress down until it falls to the floor, holding Susan against the wall with her body weight and her breasts as she paws at Susan's panties.  " _Everything_ ," she hisses.  Susan nods quickly and shimmies until her panties pool at her feet.

 

"You better know what the fuck you're doing."  Susan presses her naked ass against Roberta's naked crotch.  "Because I sure as fuck do."

 

"I think I can figure it out."  Roberta gets her arms around Susan, latching their bodies together like glue.  "I found you, didn't I?" she whispers as she gently squeezes Susan's breasts, not to hurt, just to show possession.  "I found you all by myself."

 

"Huh.  I was doin' fine before I met you."  Susan's body twitches in Roberta's arms.  Roberta smirks and sucks an earlobe between her lips.  Susan gasps; Roberta had seen Jim do the same thing, eliciting the same reaction.  "Shit…shit, girl."  Roberta keeps on with the earlobe and lets one hand snake down Susan's belly, below the navel, her fingertips just touching the trimmed fine, brown hair.  "If you're gonna do something…"

 

"You're always in a rush.  Why don't you try slowing down some time?  You might like it."  Roberta lets her go and very slowly slides down to her knees to retrieve _her_ green dress from the floor.  She nuzzles the backs of Susan's knees on the way back up, leaves a few gentle nibbles on Susan's dance-toned thighs before standing back up slowly, her breasts brushing Susan's ass.  When she takes a step back Susan spins around and kisses her, breathing hard and fast already.

 

"C'mon, girl."

 

"Hang the dress up first," Roberta orders.  She holds it up, sliding it between Susan's magnificent tits, up to her chin, and slips her longest two fingers into Susan's mouth.  "Right where you found it, and you know I'll know if you got it wrong."  Roberta watches Susan stumble over her feet to the closet, dropping a few wooden hangers before gingerly rehanging the dress and returning it to its place in the back of the closet.  When she returns she looks almost sheepish, if the infamous Susan Thomas could ever pull off sheepish.

 

"I'm pretty accustomed to getting what I want," Susan explains as she kneels on Roberta's bed.  "I'll make you a deal—if you don't come, I'll leave first thing in the morning, and you can keep the jacket."  She moves to the edge of the bed in front of Roberta, flips her hair to the side, wets her lips, lets her hands fall between her thighs.  "If you do, I stay as long as I want, and I get the jacket, the dress…and keys to the house."  Susan shakes her tits, just a little, and bites her bottom lip.  "What d'ya say?"

 

Roberta reaches out to trace Susan's mouth, letting her thumb linger on the beauty mark above her top lip.  "That's no fair.  I want my dress.  And I want to come.  And I want you…to stay."

 

"You don't say."  Susan scoots back, leaning against the propped up throw pillows.  Crossing her legs, she cups her breasts and lifts one up so she can lick a wet stripe across the nipple.  Roberta squeezes her legs together.  "C'mon, stranger.  I'm waitin' for you.  You wanted to be Jim, now's your chance."

 

Roberta crawls menacingly across the bed, grabs Susan by the hips and pulls her down flat.  Flabbergasted, Susan can only stare up at Roberta's stormy face with wonder.

 

"No.  I'm not going to fuck you like Jim, or Dez, or any other men you could sleep with to try to get to me."  Roberta presses Susan's wrists down over her head and leans close until all they can see is each other's eyes.  "This is me fucking you, Susan.  This is what it feels like to be fucked by me."

 

Susan's voice is shaky when she whispers, "I bet you don't have it in y—" and can't finish for Roberta's tongue in her mouth.

 

Roberta holds Susan's hands over her head, to keep her still, and because it keeps their arms out of the way so she can crush her breasts to Susan's, crush her hips against hers, too.  She pulls away to kiss at Susan's ear again, and is surprised when Susan bends toward her, whimpering until their mouths come together again.  It's hot and wet inside Susan's mouth.  Roberta knew it would be.  She presses her thighs together when she thinks about where else Susan could be hot and wet.

 

"F-fuck, Susan."

 

"Damn."  Susan licks her lips and spreads her legs wider to get Roberta as close as possible.  "You better do something quick or I'll…"

 

Roberta lets go Susan's wrists and nibbles her way down her chest.  "Or you'll what?"  She parts her lips so her hunger can dribble over Susan's left nipple.  Once it's glistening with her saliva she sucks it into her mouth.  She smiles as best she can when Susan trembles underneath her.

 

"Oh."  Susan breathes loudly as she watches Roberta lave attention all over her left breast.  She cups her right one, rolling the nipple between her fingers in anticipation of Roberta's lips.  Roberta prefers to stay where she is, and Susan can only whimper in protest and lift her heavy breast up to her own lips.  Roberta watches, licks the drool from her mouth.

 

"I know what I want," Roberta says gruffly as she rubs her face against Susan's delicious breasts.  "I want to see how you get off…when you're thinking about me."  She says the second part quick and low, and she'd avert her eyes from Susan's if she wasn't already focused on Susan's toned yet rounded stomach, the brown patch of pubic hair beneath it, and what she can't yet see but can feel against her thigh.  "I wanna watch you fuck yourself for a while."

 

"Like you don't already know," Susan grunts before slipping two fingers into her mouth.  Roberta sits back and watches, not bothering to deny how many times she's heard Susan through doors and walls, and that one time she'd found Susan using her own vibrator.

 

"Ok, yeah.  Watch me now," Susan hisses, her mouth impossibly wide as she runs wet fingertips over her skin.  She squeezes her breasts with her arms, making them pop out even more than they already do.  "You always did like watching me."  She pants as she cups her crotch with one hand, reaches for Roberta with the other.  "C'mere."  She angles Roberta in just the right way so her friend can suckle her one breast while rubbing her own against Susan's other.  "Yeah, keep doing...mmm."  Roberta can't quite see, but she can feel Susan playing with herself.  She can hear it, smell it.  She leans back, lips wet and tongue fatigued but ready for more.

 

"Open your legs."  Susan hesitates, blushing just a little as she complies, like she's embarrassed to show Roberta the wetness dripping onto the $300 sheets.  "Oh, my."

 

The familiar, confident smirk is back on Susan's lips.  "Don't wuss out on me now, girl.  I'm just—"

 

"What a pretty pussy."  Roberta gasps after she says it, and then she says it again, nodding her head.  "Show me."  Susan nods too, biting her lip as she strokes herself open.  She pants like she's trying to cover up a moan.  "C'mon, don't go slow.  I can't wait."

 

"Fuck, yeah."  Susan curves her index and middle fingers and slides them in deep with little prelude.  She starts fucking herself fast.  "You gonna keep up with me or what, girl?"

 

Roberta reaches for herself, then cocks her head, changing her mind quickly as she crawls over Susan's face.  She shivers at Susan's hot breath on her inner thighs.  "I want you to do this to me."

 

Susan laughs and licks a long stripe up Roberta's tennis-toned thigh.  "Not unless you ask for it by name.  C'mon, girl.  Talk dirty to me.  You just might like—"  And then Susan can't talk anymore with a mouth full of perfectly trimmed labia.  Roberta arches quickly, a huge smile on her face as she digs her nails into Susan's legs.  She shimmies around on Susan's face, staring down at Susan's crotch like she isn't sure if she should or could reach it.

 

"Oh.  Oh my."  She laughs, because Gary couldn't do it this good if his life depended on it.  Susan eats her out with just the right amount of tongue and lips, and she hums while she does it, licks her lips while she does it, and even manages to play with herself while she does it.  Roberta takes a deep breath and reaches down to move Susan's hand away, and laughs when her fingers sink inside right away.  "God, you're so wet."

 

Susan mumbles something and pushes her tongue deeper inside, shutting Roberta up.  Instead of talking she mimics Susan's tongue pulsing inside her with her own fingers, thrusting them faster inside her friend as she presses down, opening herself as much as possible.  She relishes being on top—even with Dez, she's never on top.

 

Eventually Susan pushes her over on her back and crawls on top, too.  Roberta takes the opportunity to taste Susan on her fingers.  When she moans around the dripping musk, Susan smiles and presses Roberta's legs apart with her thighs.

 

"Let's do this," Susan grunts.  She lifts Roberta's leg up, sliding in between and on top, and they both hiss when they come together, lips to lips, breast to breast, clit to clit.  Susan kisses her hard as she thrusts against her.  At first Roberta just sort of lies there, letting the sensation wash over her, like the first time she was with Kenny Abramowicz in high school, and the first and only time she let Gary talk her into anal.  Then she thinks about Susan disappearing again—for who knows how long—and she grabs on tight.  She lets her hands roam, squeezing every inch of Susan she can reach, tasting her mouth and neck, trying to get all she can.  When Susan looks down at her and licks her lips, Roberta runs her fingers through her dye job, kisses her softly, and then rolls her onto her back.

 

She doesn't think about it, she just dives in, and she finds herself going down on Susan Thomas.  It's not so strange, a bit like eating herself out, she thinks momentarily, except she wouldn't be anywhere as loud and bossy as Susan seems to be.

 

"Yeah…use your fingers when you…yeah." 

"Suck me right there…harder…harder.  Ow, fuck, yeah."

"Damn, girl, I'm not gonna break.  You can do it harder and—oh!"  Roberta thinks Susan is coming in her mouth, because Susan never stops talking, and right now Susan is only shaking and making nonsensical moans and utterings as she pulls on Roberta's hair, trying to get her closer.  Roberta licks and sucks until she can't breathe, and Susan collapses and rolls away from her.

 

Wiping her face seems a little rude, so Roberta kisses down Susan's back to dry herself…and to be kissing Susan's back.  The little blonde hairs there go into goose pimples when she does it.  She smiles.

 

Susan moans as she slithers atop Roberta.  "I needed that."  Her kiss is soft at first, then harsher as she slides a demanding hand between Roberta's legs.  Roberta has to turn away to breathe.  "Uh, uh," Susan hisses.  "Look at me."  Roberta does, opens her arms and legs enough to allow Susan access to everything and holds on as Susan rocks into her with her mouth and three fingers and her crazy bohemian existence.  It's a lot of flying blonde hair and red lips and Roberta demanding Susan to "fuck her pussy harder" until Susan nearly laughs and ruins the mood.

 

"You ain't holding back on me, are ya?" Susan hisses, hand pumping like a machine.

 

Roberta blinks up at Susan and the bead of sweat forming at her dark-rooted brow.  "Wh-what?  Of course n-noooot."  She squeezes her eyes shut as Susan's fingers and thighs and weight and hot breath get her just right.  As she comes she can just make out Susan chuckling shit like "knew it" and "so hot" in her ear.

 

The first thing she can really see when she regains her composure is Susan licking her fingers clean, and that makes her want to start all over again.  But then the feeling comes back to her loins, and she squeezes her legs together.  The second things she sees is Susan's back as its owner stretches and meows at the end of the bed.

 

"Mmm.  I needed that.  Gotta work the kinks out somehow," Susan says as she arches and tilts her pelvis on the sticky sheets.  She frowns at her nails, why, Roberta will never know.  "Sooooo…this mean I can't keep the dress?"

 

Roberta shakes her head, and laughs at the absurdity of her life.  "Fuck it.  I'll buy a better one…with Gary's credit card."

 

"That's the spirit."

 

"Uh-huh."

 

Susan finally turns around to face Roberta.  She looks…shy.  For Susan.  "So, like, I was gonna go out to L.A. for a while.  That dress will get me places."

 

"Yeah."

 

"And the jacket fits you better anyway, soo…you get what I'm saying?"

 

"Not at all."

 

Susan crawls over and lays a soft, wet kiss right on Roberta's nipple.  "Wanna come to L.A.?"

 

Roberta holds her breath.  "Depends.  You want me as some sort of sugar momma or something?  Or you want me—"

 

"I want you."  Susan blushes and hides her face between Roberta's breasts.  "I mean, if you _wanna_ be my sugar momma, then have at it, girl.  But…no.  Just want you there.  Ok?"

 

Roberta bites her lip.  "Maybe I need you to convince me."  And then she spreads her legs.

 

###

 

Leslie shakes her head, thinks about covering her nose, as she steps through her brother's house.  Wrinkled clothing, empty pizza boxes, domestic beer cans, and who knows what else litter the carpet she helped Gary pick out.  She clutches the spare set of keys over her heart, despairing for her sister-in-law's wicked ways and the pretty blonde nieces and nephews she'll now never have.

 

"I _knew_ Gary should have never married her," she says to herself.

 

"The fuck?"

 

Leslie gasps and drops the keys and photo album—meant to inspire nostalgia and guilt—to the floor and throws her hands up over her head like they do in the movies.  She turns slowly to find a strange, bleary-eyed man wearing Gary's robe and tube socks.  She screams again.

 

"Please!  Hungover here," the man says, with a deep, almost-sexy voice.  He holds his hands up, to shush Leslie or to show his lack of weapons, and says very calmly, "You _must_ be the sister-in-law, right?"

 

Leslie takes a step forward, thinking of the women's self-defense class she'd taken last year.  "Wh-what are you doing in my brother's house?  Who are you?  One of Susan's hooligan friends?  I'm going to call the police!  Are you on drugs?"

 

"Dez.  I'm Dez.  Watching the house while they're gone."  Dez rubs his eyes and stumbles over the mess to the kitchen.  He rumbles around in the fridge, oblivious to Leslie's rantings about breaking and entering, vandalism, and $1000 rugs.  He comes out of the fridge with a pitcher of orange juice.  "Breakfast?"

 

Leslie's eyes go wide, wider.  "You're staying here?  Where's Roberta?"

 

Dez pours them both large glasses.  "Los Angeles.  I'm watering the plants while they're gone."  He smiles and pours some more.  "They'll be a while."

 

Hesitating, Leslie pulls up a stool to the breakfast counter while Dez searches for food.  "Roberta's in L.A.?  Why haven't I heard anything about this?  And just who the hell are you?"

 

Dez sniffs some milk, frowns, and then takes out a box of cereal and a bowl anyway.  "I'm a friend of Roberta's."

 

"Friend.  As in…boyfriend?"

 

Dez leans on the counter, gives Leslie his best smile.  "Yes…and no.  Depends on if Susan's around."  When Leslie's eyes go wide, he laughs, throaty, and pats her hand.  "It's fine.  Susan's a lot to compete with.  And hey, I got to stay here and use the pool, right?"

 

Leslie takes a few deep breaths.  "She's out there in California…lezzing it up…with Susan?"

 

"Sure looks that way."  Dez pours a bowl of cereal.  "Hey, Jim."  Leslie screams again when another man in similar garb stumbles up behind her and grabs a glass of juice.

 

"What the hell?"  Leslie clutches her purse to her chest.  "Is this place a hostel now?  Oh my God!"

 

The new guy—Jim—looks Leslie up and down, grabs a piece of fruit, and walks back to the bedroom, mumbling, "She's kinda hot," before disappearing.  Dez clears his throat, scratches his head.

 

"That's Susan's boyfriend.  He and his band made a mess of the place last night.  We'll clean it up."

 

Leslie takes out her compact and checks herself out, in case the ruffian with crazy hair who thinks she's hot comes back.  She checks out Dez as he starts on some eggs.  She always liked a man with a deep voice who can cook.  "How, um, long do you think you'll be staying in Gary's house?"

 

Dez takes out three plates.  "Depends.  You kicking us out?"

 

"If my brother finds out you're here…I don't know what he'll do," Leslie states, though she figures Gary would squeal even higher than she just did.  "I was hoping they'd still work things out, but this is just beyond the pale!"

 

Dez sets down the eggs he's been expertly whisking and looks Leslie square in the eye.  "You've known Roberta longer than me.  Do you think that maybe her husband's inability to satisfy her sexually drove her to an alternative lifestyle?"

 

Leslie finds herself grabbing at Dez's strong, hairy arm before she can even think about her on-again-off-again fling with the dentist.  "Yes!  I read it in a magazine!"

 

Dez smiles.  Great teeth.  "I think I read that magazine, too."

 

Leslie feels herself blush.  "Dez, is it?"  She tilts her head and smiles coquettishly.  "So, er, did you go to college?"

 

"Uh, no."  He picks up the eggs, gives her a flash of his electric blue eyes again.  "Is that a problem?"

 

Leslie drops her purse on the floor and makes herself comfortable.  "Not at all."

 

 

© 2017 by KTA


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